


The Case of the Caged Heart

by jazzypizzaz



Series: only know you love him when you let him go [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Denial of Feelings, Gen, M/M, Mild Gore, Mystery, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:59:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odo returns from the Great Link to Deep Space Nine and discovers that Quark is dead.  He launches himself into a willfully delusional investigation to find out the “truth”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Caged Heart

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [ various tumblr posts ](http://ds9shameblog.tumblr.com/post/147224129114/fluorescentbrains-ds9shameblog)
> 
> my everlasting gratitude to beta-reader [ brinnanza ](http://brinnanza.tumblr.com) who is a miracle-worker at cleaning up my sloppy wording and haphazard punctuation.

“With all the war relief coordination you’ve had to manage, I hope Quark hasn’t been giving you too much trouble,” Odo says, as he walks with Kira through the docking corridor to the Promenade.   “What has that pesky bartender been up to since I’ve been gone, anyway?”  

 

Fresh from the Great Link, Odo feels more at peace than he has ever before in his life.  He’s _from_ somewhere, a home he never knew that he can always return to, where he’ll always be welcomed.  But after a year of teaching the Link about all he’s learned, duty calls, and Odo has now returned to live among the solids on Deep Space Nine and help them keep order with his newfound inner confidence.  He has no doubt they’ve been struggling without his superior assistance.

 

“Odo--” Kira starts carefully.  Her smile is a bit strained, but he figures it’s likely due to the burden of attempting to run the station without an adequate security team.  

 

“Rolling around in latinum I expect, with all the illegal schemes I haven’t been around to stop?  Well now that I’m back, there’s no need to worry any longer,” Odo says, and Kira’s smile drops, replaced by a nervous look. They had spent several minutes at the airlock after his arrival hugging and exchanging pleasantries, and Odo assumed this was an acceptable amount of time to wait before jumping into security matters, but based on Kira’s reaction, it’s possible he misjudged.

 

“Odo, he…” Kira again starts to say, but hesitates with the twist of her mouth.  She stops in the corridor, unsure how to continue.  Odo keeps walking ahead, doubling back when he realizes she stopped.

 

Odo chuckles.  “Not that I don’t respect your commitment to security, Colonel,” he says with a respectful incline of his head, “but he’s a slippery toad, and I’ve had years of practice.  Now that I’m here though, you don’t have to worry about him any longer.  In fact I think I’ll stop by right now--”  

 

Kira reaches out to grab Odo’s elbows, stopping him in his tracks as he starts to resume their pace down the corridor, a fond smile on his lips.  “Odo… Odo, he’s gone.”

 

Her eyes are wide and direct as they search his face.  Odo stares dumbly back at her.  “Gone where?  Why?  Hiding from someone he screwed over, I might expect, but if the bar’s still here he’ll be back.”

 

Kira shakes her head, her voice gentle and careful, and her grip on his elbows tightens.  “No, Odo.  Odo, he’s gone forever.  He… passed away.”

 

Odo squints at her, still confused.  “That insufferable profit-monger didn’t finally make enough money to buy his own moon, did he?”  Odo snorts.  “That would be the day.  Whatever the case, I don’t see what would prevent him from doing business at the station.   All his best contacts are here -- even with the rebuilding efforts, Deep Space Nine is still an important trade post and plenty of opportunity comes through--”

 

“He’s dead Odo,” Kira half-shouts, shaking him slightly.  

 

Odo stares at her.  As the words filter in, his mind absorbing their meaning like poison, the sharp architecture of the corridor around him stutters, fading out of his perception.  If Odo were humanoid, there might be a tight feeling in his chest as blood refused to flow properly through the network of veins transporting life to the billions of cells working to sustain his life.  He might hear a ringing in his ears, his breath might come short and shallow, and his mouth might have gone dry.  As they would have for Quark in this situation, if he were alive.  

 

From a lifetime of first-hand observation and second-hand accounts of melodrama in humanoid fiction, this is what Odo knows about solids. They tend to experience emotions throughout their myriad organs, which often inconveniently malfunction when faced with crises.  

 

Odo does not feel any of this.  

 

Instead, his vision swims as his focus slips away from sensing his surroundings through the shifted facade of his eyes.  His knees wobble, facsimile of rigid bones wavering in their faux-solidity.  Odo feels a curious falling sensation, as if the station around him had suddenly zoomed far away, a vast universe with one less life in it.  

 

Why should this one pathetic, sniveling life matter in particular? And anyway, if Quark had already been gone before this very moment, and Odo’s life hadn’t felt any different then, why should it feel different now that he’s aware of the news?  Unlike the loose ebb and flow of the Link, the station has a set routine that Odo has been expecting, and an integral part of that routine is bar surveillance.  It’s unthinkable that Quark wouldn’t be around to be a constant troublesome pest-- like the Cardassian voles that refuse to be exterminated or the crudely pieced together technology that refuses to function properly.  There are supposed to be some things one can count on.

 

Quark can’t be dead.  It just doesn’t make sense.

 

Odo re-coalesces into his normal humanoid appearance, grounding himself.  Kira has been watching Odo, her face alarmed at his reaction.  Gently, she says, “Are you okay?  I know how much -- how much you were looking forward to cracking his schemes.”  She hesitates.  “I know how much you cared.”

 

“This is a joke,” Odo says sharply.

 

“No, Odo…” Kira shakes her head slightly, her face wary.  Odo looks away from her down the hall, half-expecting Quark to come swaggering out from around the corner.

 

“He’s probably faking it.  Mark my words--”

 

Kira reaches up to put her hand on Odo’s face, turning him back to look at her.  “His--” Her voice is hoarse, so she takes a moment to clear her throat before continuing.  “His vacuum-desiccated body is for sale on the Ferengi Open Market.  Morn has full ownership of the bar, and Quark’s latinum was donated to the Bajoran War Orphan’s Fund.  His… passing was a freak accident, but we’ve already investigated.  He’s really dead, Odo.”

 

“War Orphans--?”  Odo scoffs.  “That sounds like a bizarre alternate version of our beloved scoundrel.  Now I know this is a joke.”

 

Odo tries to shake her grip, and Kira releases him, still watching his reaction.  He shakes his head disbelievingly with another harrumph, then strolls away from Kira without another word.

 

\----------------

 

Odo paces the security office with a feeling of direction and rightness he hasn’t felt since leaving the station last year.  The Great Link had filled a hole in his proverbial heart, bestowing him with all the connection and peace he had been missing his whole life, but after sharing experiences and memories and curing the disease with the Link there hadn’t been much to do.  Now, reinstated as interim security chief with a fresh mystery in hand, Odo appreciates the renewed purpose.  Without him on the station, clearly any investigation into Quark’s death would be sub-par at best, and whatever crime or misdirection had led to this situation would remain undiscovered.

 

 _A fresh mystery_ in hand _indeed_ , Odo thinks, snorting out loud as he turns over his newly purchased disc of vacuum-desiccated Ferengi in his hands.  Despite the popular opinion that he doesn't have a sense of humor, it amuses Odo to imagine the scandalized look Quark would have on his face if he had heard this thought.

 

But Quark _isn’t_ here.  Odo frowns, disconcerted.  Well, supposedly this disc _was_ Quark, or a piece of him anyway.  The Ferengi broker handling the deal had certainly been insistent, but Ferengi couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth about even such serious situations as the identities of corpses if there was half a compelling reason to lie.  Odo holds up the disc to the light, shifting it back and forth as if expecting to recognize Quark in the encased fleshy matter, but it looks like the same generic momento it did when he purchased it earlier this morning.

 

All vacuum-desiccated corpses looked the same, as far as Odo could tell, and it was only the word of the seller and sentimental attachments to the memory of the deceased that imbued the object with value.  Value that the Ferengi broker, Likt, had been all too eager to justify to Odo when negotiating the price of the disc.  

 

Likt had appraised Odo with his beady little eyes before plunging into his sales pitch.  “Three bars of latinum is a _steal_ for this keepsake.  How better to remember your friend--”

 

“He’s not my friend,” Odo had countered, scowling at the implication.

 

“Ahh,” the Ferengi had said knowingly with a slimy grin.  “Smart lobes for profit, for a non-Ferengi.  So you know that this man was the brother of the new Nagus. True, Grand Nagus Rom is not too popular on Ferenginar right now, but there’s no telling which way the market will bend in several years.  Invest in a piece of his family now, and you could curry favor in trades later on--”

 

“I have no sentimental _or_ business interest in this disc.  It’s for an investigation.  Skip the greasy sales talk and give me a fair price, or I’ll hold up your cargo ship for an extended inspection.  Should take about three hours, if everything goes according to procedure.”

 

“But I’m working on an exact schedule-- we’re exporting klavaatu fruits, which are expensive and highly perishable--”

 

“Not my problem.  It’s standard policy when a ship has been flagged as suspicious, and in my experience all Ferengi are suspicious.  However, if I had the evidence I needed to continue my investigation, I would perhaps be willing to overlook your vessel, this time.  Do we have an understanding?”

 

Likt had still managed to wheedle a strip of latinum out of him for the disc, but if it led Odo to cracking the case, it would be a small price to pay.  The negotiation had been frustrating, but it did generate several extra clues.  While Odo might scoff at what sentimental value a disc of Quark could elicit in cold hard latinum, the brother of even a controversial Nagus like Rom would fetch a hefty sum on the market.

 

Odo grins to himself.  “You’re slipping, Quark.  You may have gotten away, but I’m onto you, you duplicitous troll,” he says to the disc as he flips it into the air.

 

\----------------

 

The next order of business is tracing the money trail: where the latinum goes, so does Quark.  Odo taps his fingers impatiently on the desk as the viewscreen clarifies.

 

“Helloooo Constable, nice to see you back doing what you love.  Are you happy to be home?”  Rom grins dopily at Odo from the staticky screen, Leeta at his side holding his hand.  They’re  dressed resplendently in flowing lurid purple robes that clash horribly with the large orange plush cushion they’re curled up on.  Various shiny metallic trinkets are stacked precariously on shelves behind them, and in front of them is a pile of mudbug carcasses on a gold-rimmed plate -- the remains of a decadent dinner.

 

Odo grunts.  “The Great Link is my home; the station is my _job_.  You’re settling into your new position of power and profit, with ease I see.”  

 

Unsurprisingly, Rom doesn’t pick up on the note of suspicion in Odo’s voice.  “The decorations and food are sooo much nicer than on the station, but being Nagus is haaaard work.  I don’t mind, though, because I’m making Fereginar a better place.  Someone has to protect oppressed workers, and this time that someone is us!”

 

“And there’s no one better to fight for a more equitable Ferenginar than Nagus Rom,” Leeta coos, nuzzling Rom’s face with her nose.  

 

Rom giggles and starts nuzzling her back.  “I couldn’t do it without my lovely wife!”

 

Odo lets out a disgruntled huff.  “No doubt you’re doing an excellent job,” he says, his sarcasm undetected by the lovey-dovey couple, “but this isn’t a social call.  I’m here to talk to you about Quark. Or more specifically, his will.”  Odo gestures with the disc in hand.

 

“What-- what about my brother?” Rom’s face immediately falls, eyes now locked on the enclosed piece of Quark, as if hearing the news for the first time all over again.  Leeta gazes at Rom, lips in a sympathetic pout.

 

“All these royal trappings can’t be cheap, especially for a Nagus that prioritizes people over profits.”

 

Rom stares at him dumbly, as if waiting for him to get to the point, but Leeta whips her head away from comforting Rom to glare at Odo, eyes flashing.  “These are all hand-me-downs from Nagus Zek; we’re in the process of auctioning off the more expensive pieces for charity.  Don’t you _dare_ even _insinuate_ that my sweet Rom would murder his own brother for a few measly bars of latinum.”

 

“I never said anything about murder, but it’s interesting that you would jump to that conclusion.  Rule number 139, brothers inherit.  Rom has been after the bar since I arrived on the station years ago.”

 

“For your information, Quark left _Morn_ the bar in his will; some sort of petty reaction to Rom’s decision to raise the minimum wage and levy new taxes for conservation efforts.” Leeta says sharply while Rom continues to stare wide-eyed at Odo, thunderstruck, a quiet whimper starting under his breath.  “Besides, Rom doesn’t _need_ the bar, he’s Nagus now!”

 

“And the case of latinum I know Quark keeps under his bed?  You can’t convince me that Quark himself wrote in his will to leave that to the Bajoran War Orphans Fund.”

 

“No, he still left that to Rom and Nog.”  Leeta gazes adoringly at Rom, rubbing his back in comfort as he whimpers in grief.  “But Nog is part of Starfleet now, and we don’t need the money as much as the orphans do.  I know how they live and what they go through; I was one once.  But I have the good fortune of being part of a family now, with Rom, so my dear sweet husband in his incredible generosity passed it on to the Fund.”

 

“You’re telling me that Rom, after years of waiting for Quark to die, doesn’t have any interest in the inheritance he’s owed?  Not even to make up for all the years of underpaid grunt work and petty insults?”

 

“I don’t hold a grudge against my brother, he’s my brother!”  Rom finally speaks up in between sniffles.  “Besides, I donated in his memory. He would be honored to know he’s helping all those poor children.  And I’m richer than he ever was, with Leeta by my side.”  Odo snorts in derision.  Leeta whimpers with saccharine adoration, and begins to nuzzle Rom again, who nuzzles back, making happy whimpery noises of his own.

 

“Message me the receipts, your bank statements, and a copy of the will.” Odo shuts off the com link in disgust, not waiting for an answer.  While Rom may be a gullible idiot, he’s also embarrassingly sincere and a terrible liar.  

 

“The orphans may get a few more blankets, but what are _you_ getting out of this, Quark?” Odo muses, squinting at the disc of Quark thoughtfully.

 

The trail of latinum may be a dead end, but there are other clues for Odo to follow.

 

\----------------

 

Odo pauses at the threshold to the bar, the familiar sound of raucous laughter and spinning dabo wheels stopping him in his tracks with nostalgia.  

 

Nostalgia for time spent maintaining order and sniffing out schemes of dubious legality, not nostalgia for time spent with a certain bartender.  Of course.  

 

He certainly doesn’t miss the unruly noise of solids indulging in all their various vices or the slimy proprietor peddling such distasteful experiences to his customers.  Truth be told, Odo had been avoiding the bar, even though it’s a useful place to gather information.  It’s a despicable place, his _least_ favorite place on the station, so there certainly shouldn’t be any sentimental attachments he’s afraid to face upon visiting it once more.

 

Odo concentrates on defining the details of his uniform, straightens his posture to utmost rigidity, and strides at a deliberate pace to the bar counter to ask Morn about ownership documentation.

 

Before he gets there, however, he’s swamped by a crowd of Bajorans, who pat him on the back and tell him how much they missed knowing he was around to prevent crime.  

 

“It’s too bad you missed the Peldor Festival!” a kindly older woman says, and Odo mutters under his breath “For which I am grateful.” That earns him a round of good-natured laughter and various stories about the Festival, despite Odo’s obvious disinterest.  

 

They ask about his trip and what it’s like to be back on the station, but pointedly do not refer to the Founders or ask about the Great Link; it’s like they want to pretend he’s been on vacation.  

 

Odo manages to extract himself from the crowd, the familiar feeling of Otherness rankling beneath his shifted-solid surface, and by long-buried force of habit, turns to the bar on the pretension of hassling the bartender about watering down drinks.  Instead, however, he stops in his tracks,  doing a double take at what he sees. There is someone much taller and broader behind the bar, with several more hairs and considerably smaller ears than Odo unconsciously expected.  

 

Of course Morn is behind the bar, ordering around the waiters and pouring drinks for customers.  Of course Quark _isn’t_ there, ready to roll his eyes at Odo’s persecution of his “honest business”.  That’s the whole reason Odo is here.

 

Feeling inexplicably irritated that the bar just doesn’t _feel_ right under this new ownership, and that therefore there _must_ be deeper conspiracies underfoot, Odo heaves an affected sigh (a satisfying habit learned from mimicking solids) and sidles up to the counter to interrogate the new bar owner.  

 

Morn fills the air with lengthy prattle about what it was like to find out not only that Quark was _gone_ , but that he had left the bar to his best customer, and how Morn could hardly believe it until the documentation came through, and how everyone’s pitching in to get a holographic projection of Quark to permanently stand behind the counter in memoriam, etc etc.  

 

Restless, Odo finds himself tapping the disc of Quark repetitively against the bar counter.  Morn is giving him some useful information, but he also has a tendency to draw out conversation long past being interesting or relevant.  Quark, on the other hand, would reveal half as much information upfront, but Odo at least enjoyed the challenge of extracting the poorly hidden details, much to Quark’s indignation.  Quark was many things, but no one would say he was _boring_.

 

 _Is_ many things.   _Isn’t_ boring.  Present tense.

 

Disturbing lapse into past tense verbs aside, Odo refocuses on the task at hand and extracts himself from Morn’s monologue mid-sentence. The paperwork for the bar seems in order anyway, and Morn’s story matches up with what Odo had heard from Rom and others.

 

Odo spends the rest of the afternoon lurking around the bar, interviewing any customers or staff who might have even the slightest connection to Quark.  Most of these conversations are with people who are familiar with Odo and thus riddled with unnecessary small talk.  

 

“Oh how great to see you back on the station!” one of the dabo girls, Aluura, says, as if she had any affection for the gruff constable.  “How was the home planet?  Did you miss the station?  Does it seem like anything changed?”

 

And on and on comes the barrage of questions, as if any of them care about Odo’s answers.  They don’t actually want to hear about how Odo left the planet assuming his home would remain there for him unchanged, only to arrive on Deep Space Nine to discover the major lapse in security that Quark’s absence brings to attention.  If Odo can’t trust the constancy of the slimy little bartender to wiggle out of any situation he gets into, or his uncanny ability to continue peddling vices to the underbelly of the station every day despite whatever obstacles he may face, then how can Odo expect his home planet to remain unchanged until he decides to return?

 

Odo tries his best to redirect each of these unnecessary conversations away from personal inquiries and back to his investigation.  He waves the Quark disc in their faces, and unleashes his own interrogation.  

 

“What was Quark up to last time you saw him?  Did he seem particularly nervous or excited?  Who did you see him talk to in the months leading up to his ‘death’?”

 

These should all be perfectly routine inquiries for an open case, but any mention of Quark whiplashes the conversation back into the personal.  Odo notes the way they recoil their heads from the Quark disc, eyebrows or ridges furled with pity.  Odo then has to suffer through profuse expressions of sympathy for the loss of his “friend,” despite Odo’s own insistence to the contrary, as well as extended reminiscing on how Quark would give them half priced drinks if they were losing at dabo or how he always kept their favorite vintage of springwine in stock.  One grizzled old vedek does discuss at length how Quark’s betting pool on the election of the new Kai rankled more conservative members, but religious Bajorans are hardly the type to hunt Quark down.  

 

For the most part everyone is highly reluctant to insinuate any ill of the dead, and no one has any information to link Quark to schemes that would result in him faking his death.   

 

Everyone keeps trying to distract Odo from his investigation with their pity.  They keep asking how he’s feeling and wanting to buy him drinks as condolence (as if they forgot who they were talking to!).   Don’t any of these people remember what an insufferable annoyance Quark was? The way people reminisce, it’s as if they think he was the saint of the station and had singlehandedly saved all of them from the Dominion, even when what they’re remembering is the time he screwed them over in a deal or ran a betting pool on their love lives.  

 

Don’t they remember how he was the bane of Odo’s existence? How much more peaceful his life will be without Quark to constantly get himself into trouble?  

 

If Odo were in the Great Link right now, everyone would understand him instantly and there would be no information they could hide -- all secrets out in the open and no need for this investigation.  True, this had left him feeling a bit untethered and purposeless-- better to gather more experience among solids and report back to share every so often-- but Odo could still appreciate the simplicity of changeling communication.

 

Quark’s own prattle, of course, was the pinnacle of what Odo disliked about solids, but at least it was never dull Regardless, it’s insufficient justification to not pursue whatever treachery had resulted in Quark’s disappearance.

 

This day comes to a head when Odo finds himself being psychoanalyzed by an overly earnest Ezri Dax.  

 

“Odo, you’ve been here relentlessly questioning people all day,” she says after Odo makes the mistake of complaining about the lack of clues uncovered.  “Maybe you should take a break.  You’ve been at this same ‘case’ since the second you arrived on the station, and you didn’t even take the time to settle into your job or reconnect with your friends--”

 

“If I hadn’t left the station for the Link, this situation wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand to begin with,” Odo counters.  “I could have kept track of clues from the beginning, those small details lesser detectives always miss.”  Odo slams the Quark disc down onto the bar counter in exasperation, and Ezri’s flick questioningly from the disc back to his emotional face.  “Security has clearly gotten lax in my absence. With proper surveillance, Quark would never have died.”  

 

At the last sentence, Ezri’s eyes shift from pity and exasperation to interest and hope.  She talks quickly, as if not wanting to spook Odo.  “If security has been so lax, I’m sure there are other crime reports for you to follow up on -- Kira mentioned a backlog you haven’t even touched.  And if you need to work through your grief over Quark’s death--”

 

Odo glares at her and interrupts loudly.  “What I meant to say is that that despicable, wiley troll would never have _faked_ his own death if the proper discipline and attentiveness to investigative procedure that is so clearly lacking in the task force since I’ve been gone--”

 

“Odo, I think you might be deflecting your own guilt onto people who are also just doing their job.  You have my utmost sympathies for your loss, and I really think you would find a counseling session helpful.”

 

“You never had respect for the law, but at least I could instill into you a proper fear of consequences on occasion.  It’s so… _infuriating_ of you to just vanish like this--”  Odo is now yelling directly at the disc, and surrounding customers stop their conversations to stare.  

 

Ezri’s eyebrows shoot up in concern.  “In fact I’m free right now, and if you’ll follow me to my office, we can talk about how sometimes people displace their emotions for lost loved ones onto inanimate objects--”

 

Odo growls at her angrily.  He increases in size so that he looms over her, his neck flaring out like a Velascian cobra, teeth growing longer and pointed.  “I did not love that gross toadstool of a man, and this isn’t Quark, because he’s not _lost_ ,” Odo shouts in her face, gesturing violently with the disc.

 

Ezri lets out a squeak, her eyes wide and startled but unblinking, and at her reaction, Odo immediately shrinks down to his normal form, suddenly ashamed and bewildered at his visceral reaction.

 

“I don’t have time to spare for primitive humanoid navel-gazing.  Everyone here might be willfully blind to the lies Quark has spread, but opinions and emotions are irrelevant when faced with definitive quantitative evidence to the contrary, and I intend to show that.” Odo huffs, then stalks out to the Promenade, his hand grown over-large so that he can envelope the disc into an unbreakable grip, as if it might escape.

 

\----------------

 

“Odo, hello there!  I admit, I didn’t quite expect you to come back to us.  Trouble in paradise, or did you miss us that badly?”  Dr. Bashir smirks at Odo, who has just walked into the infirmary.  Odo says nothing, and Julian’s smile fades into a more serious look.  “I am so sorry about -- about your loss.  There was nothing I could do for Quark.”

 

Odo waves his hand dismissively.  He’s getting tired of the pitying looks and condolences; why does everyone expect him to be broken up about one less criminal wreaking havoc on the station?  The churning anger and guilt spurring him to action is due to this travesty occurring because he wasn’t here to get to the bottom of the case sooner, but that will go away when he solves the mystery.  

 

Preferably sooner rather than later, since Ezri did have a point about it detracting from his ability to concentrate on other cases.

 

“Yes I’m familiar with the circumstances behind finding the body.”  Odo hands over his disc to Dr. Bashir, who takes it gingerly.  

 

“Is this what-- is this who I think it is?  I appreciate the gesture, but I already bought one.”  Julian looks touched, but confused.

 

“This one is _mine_ ,” Odo says, perhaps more sharply than necessary, liquid insides lurching at the thought of parting with the disc completely.  He’s possessive of such an important piece of evidence, that’s all.  “Can you extract a sample of this to perform DNA analysis?  I need to prove it’s not him.”

 

“Odo, we found his body.  I looked at it myself--” Dr. Bashir starts, face written over with unheeded concern, but Odo interrupts before any patronizing platitudes fall from his pitying mouth.

 

“The story I’ve heard is that Quark left the station to visit Rom, but never arrived.  The crew of the D’Kora class _Kramptus_ found his ship floating in Ferenginar’s orbit, void of any life signs.  A Ferengi body was found in the ship that matched the appearance of our ‘favorite’ bartender--”

 

“You’re not saying -- Odo, Quark is dead.”

 

“Superficial evidence shows that Quark had been brutally beaten, but cause of death wasn’t definitive.  I doubt you got an in-depth look since Ferengi don’t allow autopsies.  The body of some unfortunate soul could have been surgically altered to look like Quark, bruises on the body covering up any mistakes, and no one would ever know the difference.  Except me.”

 

“But why would someone do that?” Dr. Bashir quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at Odo, eyeing the Constable as if he were some sort of delusional conspiracy theorist instead of a determined, shrewd investigator.  “His ship had been undiscovered for days, but his death can be easily explained.  Sensors on Ferenginar show that a nearby star shot out anomalous solar flares right when he would have passed by it.  His ship was a refurbished piece of junk, which probably didn’t have adequate climate control to handle the sudden heat or turbulence caused by the flares.  He likely died from heat stroke, or from the bruising as he was tossed around the ship.”

 

“But the fact of the matter is that we don’t know what happened.  And no one besides me seems interested in finding out.  As interim chief of security, I take my job seriously and expect fellow crewmembers not to hinder my investigation.”

 

“It’s the explanation that fits everything we know.”  Julian opens his mouth again, eyes soft, and Odo braces himself for the undesired pity about to be flung his way, as if that would help ease the ache for justice Odo would feel in his atoms even if Quark _were_ dead.  

 

At Odo’s stern glare, however, Dr. Bashir thinks better of whatever he was about to say.  “Ethically, I don’t feel comfortable extracting from the… memento… even with minimal damage to the piece.  That would transgress on Ferengi tradition.”

 

“I’ve checked existing laws and various commentaries on the Rules of Acquisition.  Once a product changes hands, it is the property of the new owner to do with as they wish.  To me, it is not a token of sentiment for a horrid creature I’m not sorry to see gone--”

 

“You don’t mean that!” Dr. Bashir says, horrified.

 

“--But a clue to a larger scheme that petty criminal thought he was devious enough to get away with.” Odo ignores Bashir’s reaction, talking louder as irritation rises in him at the interruption.  “You are welcome to consult Nagus Rom on the matter, but I assure you I was thorough in exploring all possible legal and diplomatic ramifications.”

 

“We were also thorough in our original investigation into Quark’s death, Odo.”  Dr. Bashir shifts, turning the disc over in his hands.  “But if this would help you put the matter to rest, I’ll look into it,” he says gently, his natural compassion persuading him to help despite clear discomfort with the situation.

 

After Bashir uses a small device to extract a sample of the tissue from the disc, Odo nods, satisfied, and stalks out the door.  If he can’t get people to believe his investigation isn’t a delusional hopeless cause, he can at least use their pity to help move it along.

 

\--------------------------

 

While waiting for the test results, Odo examines all of the existing evidence so far, towering piles of padds stacked in distinct groups around his office.  In one is all the information related to Quark’s flight trajectory -- likely arrival time based on the speed and condition of vessel, environmental conditions, scientific analysis of the ‘anomaly’, flight plan logged with the station, correspondence with Rom.  In another is notes on interviews with bar customers, ship captains, crewmembers -- anyone Quark so much as looked at who could shed light what circumstances might have led to his disappearance.  There are also stacks of information on the Bajoran War Orphans Fund, Quark's will and Ferengi inheritance law, schematics and holophotos of Quark’s ship, payrolls for the bar, and so on.

 

In several other untouched piles are unrelated crime reports that Odo has been ignoring in favor of his higher priority wild goose chase.

 

“What ridiculous conspiracy are you wrapped up in, Quark?” Odo mutters, glowering at the padd he’s holding and flipping the Quark disc over in his hand.  There’s a knock at the door, and Odo grunts in lieu of a greeting, not looking up.

 

Kira creeps in carefully, so as not to knock over anything, eyeing the piles worriedly.  A pained look crosses her face, then she straightens herself up to her full height and slams the padds she’s holding down onto the desk.  Odo jerks his head up, surprised at the disruption.

 

“Odo, I’m going to ask you one last time,” Kira says, leaning over the desk, her eyes boring into him intensely.  “Put the Quark case on hold.  It’s distracting you from other activities around the station, and it’s not healthy.”

 

“Nerys,” Odo says exasperatedly, “you know me well enough by now that you know I won’t stop until I find justice.  There’s an answer here somewhere, and I intend to find it.”

 

“Odo… you don’t need to investigate anything.  We’ve sorted through everything.  It’s definitive.  He’s gone, it was the anomaly with the star, and you need to accept it and _do the rest of your job_.”

 

Odo scoffs and shakes his head, “I expect this from Ezri, but you of all people--”

 

“--know when to trust _the station’s counselor_ in matters of crewmembers’ mental health!” Kira shouts.  “She’s seen you talking to that… that disc, muttering to it in your office at all hours of the day and night.  You’ve been harassing every person on the station with your inquiries and dismissing everyone’s concerns, including me.  We’re worried about you, and I _care_ about you, Odo.”

 

“I know I haven't spent much time with you since arriving on the station, but I have a job to do, and I assure you that the less time you spend harping on me about--”

 

“You aren’t _doing_ your job!  You know what, _fine_.  If you’re going to continue refusing any help, then you’re fired,” Kira yells and walks out, knocking over several padds in her wake.

 

Fuming, Odo reluctantly digs out a couple of the crime reports he’d been ignoring.  Sometimes directing attention away from a problem helps all the pieces come together in an unexpected way.  But compared to Quark’s “death”-- or for that matter, any of Quark’s harebrained antics -- they’re all terribly boring, and Odo has a hard time sustaining enough interest to get through them.  

 

There’s one inquiry into whether a possible Bajoran war traitor passed through the station disguised as a vedek-- if Quark were here, Odo could stop by the bar to needle him into revealing if he noticed anyone strange, but Odo has no interest in suffering through Morn’s no doubt unobservant and long-winded remarks.  May as well move on to the next report, which concerns an Edosian smuggling cases of supposedly lucrative perfumes made illegally from the juices of an endangered Bajoran caterpillar.  Quark would surely have gotten mixed up in such a “business opportunity,” which probably would have resulted in him doused in the rank liquids, stinking up the Promenade and scaring away customers.  Odo chuckles at the thought, then heaves a tired sigh and moves on to the next report.  

 

Maybe Odo has lost his touch.  Maybe he’s not meant to be a security officer anymore and should go back to the Link.  After all what’s the fun in solving crimes on the station if he’ll never see the look on Quark’s face when he finally arrests him?  

 

“Why are you gone?  It’s inconsiderate and very frustrating,” Odo grumbles to the disc before turning back to his work.

 

Odo has reread the same sentence about a petty theft on the third floor habitat ring several times without noticing when Dr. Bashir pokes his head in.

 

“I ah didn’t want to interrupt, but you said you wanted the results as soon as possible.”

 

“Yes?” Odo says eagerly, standing up.

 

“Well… I did all the tests I could think of-- Quark had been into the infirmary quite a few times in his life, so I have a complete set of his biostats for a baseline comparison--”

 

“And?”

 

“And my research came back positive.  The tissue in the disc is definitively Quark.  It’s conclusive.”

 

“But we don’t know about the other discs-- this one could be a vestigial organ he removed beforehand or--”

 

“No, Odo... It’s cardiac tissue.  You have Quark’s heart.”

 

“Oh.”  Odo stares blankly at Bashir, then down at the disc in his hand, not larger than a bar of latinum. “It’s so small.”

 

Bashir continues talking about all the ways the tissue sample could only have come from a dead Quark, and his calm technical monologue washes over Odo from a distance.  Odo may pride himself on his persistence, but this last piece of physical evidence clicks like a key into his mind, unlocking every way he had been deluding himself from the moment Kira told him the news.  He has exhausted all possible alternatives.  

 

He failed.  

 

He failed his job, and he failed Quark.

 

“Anyway, if I were you I’d follow Kira’s, ahh, ‘advice’ and go see Ezri.”

 

Dr. Bashir waits for a response, but Odo doesn’t say a word, so the doctor nods as if to confirm his role is done and leaves.  Odo doesn’t look up, just continues staring at Quark’s heart tissue, still and unbeating in the palm of his hand, as if willing it to shift into the full person.

 

Less than a week ago, Odo had been travelling in a small repurposed Dominion ship on his way back, humming to himself with uncharacteristic anticipation.  He had been thinking of DS9 with all its flaws -- its menagerie of troublesome solids, its malfunctioning technology, its seedy underbelly-- as home, and he had reaffirmed that he could claim his role as a security officer as a vocation instead of his total identity.  Odo had even been looking forward to chasing down certain criminals… but he hadn’t known that one of those criminals would be gone forever.

 

How ironic that it’s the changeling who expects everything around him to remain the same, but this particular solid can shift from an alive _something_ to a dead _nothing_ in blink of a star.

 

A burning rage radiates through his constitution so that his very atoms seem to vibrate with the intensity of his feeling.  Odo clears his desk of padds with a dramatic sweep of his arm, and they clink and clatter onto the floor, screens cracking.  He smashes the various piles of worthless evidence and unimportant other cases, growling and raging.

 

When there is nothing left to smash in his office, the vibration slows and Odo’s figure coalesces back into regular humanoid form. He looks down to see the Quark disc miraculously intact, his hand clenched around it.  Dependably undependable Quark, now encased in the shiny plexiglass of the disc.   In it, Odo imagines he can see an image of Quark’s head, his dark-rimmed eyes gazing up at Odo, mouth twitching with the beginning of a smarmy grin, and the thought that he’ll never see that stupid mug again is the last straw for any remaining calm Odo has.

 

Odo throws the disc at the nearest wall, and it shatters, fleshy substance squirting across the wall, sticking and oozing downward--

 

And now Odo has nothing, no token representation of the best reason he had for coming back to the station.  

 

Quark is gone, forever, and there’s nothing Odo can do to save him this time; no case to crack, no mystery to uncover.  Death is final, and it happened while Odo wasn’t around, but there’s nothing he can do to make up for that now.  

 

Odo sinks down onto the floor, head in his hands, feeling smaller than when he shifts into a Rafalian pygmy mouse.

 

There’s a tentative knock at the door and a cleared throat.  Odo looks up to see an astonishing sight.

 

“Miss me?”

 

“Quark.”  Odo stands up, not quite sure the creature in the doorway of his office is real-- A hologram?  Perhaps Odo is a solid again, dreaming?  A vision from the wormhole aliens?

 

Quark, haggard and worn down but intact and alive, takes in the destruction of Odo’s office with a quirked brow ridge.  “What fe-male has got you in a tizzy this time?  Or did you come back to woo Kira only to discover she’s moved on?”  he says, a nervous quaver in his voice.  There's a pretense of casualness on the surface that attempts to cover the tension of deeper emotional undercurrent running underneath.  “You’ve really done a number on this office.”

 

Odo harrumphs, a habit, but can’t figure out a good response to that.  “I threw you at the wall,” he says finally, gesturing towards Quark heart chunks dripping down the vertical surface.

 

“Oh. You bought a disc of the body,” Quark says taken aback, scanning over the glass shards of the disc on the floor. “I’m touched that you couldn’t bear not to keep a piece of me with you,” he continues with a sarcastic playful edge to his voice, nervous smile tucked on his lips, “but trying to repaint your office with it to warn other criminals of your ruthlessness seems a bit brutal, even for a stone-hearted facist like yourself.  You needn’t have of course, because I’m _not_ dead--”

 

“I know,” Odo says, still stunned. “I knew.”

 

“Which is a good thing too, because without me around, who would teach you proper manners, like how to treat priceless artifacts and not to act like whatever animals you shift into?  I know you’ve been away from solids for a year now, and you’ve always had a temper, but honestly this is just sad.”  He gestures to the scattered, broken padds everywhere.  “You used to be so organized.”

 

Odo harrumphs again, but he can’t seem to get any words out, mood-lightening irritation writ over his face at Quark’s familiar insipid babbling.

 

Odo’s lack of response doesn’t hinder Quark from continuing with his prattle.  “Like I would ever do something so dull as die when there’s latinum to acquire and security officers to keep occupied with trying to shut down my innocent plans to make an honest living--”

 

Quark’s persecuted, complaining tone jars Odo back into his security officer role.  “Out with it-- where were you and why did you fake your death?  All my leads were disproven; _what was the scheme?_ ”  Odo folds his arms in front of him, expanding his frame in order to threaten the answer out of Quark.  His edges are smooth though, lacking some of the details, which lessens the effect.  Odo also can’t quite manage his usual glare, and his eyes are soft and inquiring.

 

Quark smirks.  “Only if you tell me I’m the most devious, underhanded, crafty Ferengi you’ve ever met and that you’ll spend your life chasing my trail of schemes, never to be satisfied--”  He spreads his arms as wide as the pointy-toothed grin on his face.

 

“You obnoxious, selfish, lying scoundrel, _shut up!_ ” Odo grumbles, his voice choked.  He closes the distance between them and grabs Quark’s elbows, pulling the all-too-real little man roughly up against himself, as if to be sure he’s Ferengi flesh and blood.  

 

“ _Make me._ ”  Quark’s hands are now trapped between the two of them, and he blinks rapidly up at Odo, who just stares at Quark, then Quark breathes out, ragged and hysterical. “I'm flattered, but you’re a heartless, unreliable dingbat who leaves the first chance he gets with no concern over what that might _do_ to a person--”  

 

Odo growls at Quark, shaking him slightly to shut him up, then closes the remaining distance between them, locking lips with Quark’s pointed gross little mouth and [ kissing him senseless ](http://jazzypizzaz.tumblr.com/post/147089235070/ds9shameblog-tfw-you-just-wanna-get-to-work-but).  Quark relaxes in Odo’s grip, eagerly reciprocating as if he might never get the chance again.  

 

They cling to each other desperately, drinking in the sensations of the other, both of them real and present and hopelessly alive.  They kiss as if to say they’ll never leave this moment, and each promises with the movements of their tongue in each other’s mouth to never stop irritating the other.

 

A promise that they immediately keep.

 

Abruptly, Odo pulls his head away, eyes narrowing with suspicion.  Quark whines, his eyes still closed, and leans in seeking the lips that were so cruelly removed from his own.  

 

“Tell me how you faked your own death.”

 

Quark flutters his eyes open, his face becoming wary as he scans Odo’s face.  “Bah, boring.  I didn’t.  Now will you keep kissing me?”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.  You’re under arrest for conspiracy and fraud until I know what happened.”

 

“It was an accident!  I didn’t do anything!”  Quark squeaks out.  He leans forward to resume kissing, but Odo pulls back farther, staring expectantly.  

 

Quark sighs.  “I was on my ship, then there were a bunch of bright lights, like in the elevator to the Divine Treasury.  I tried to hide in the transporter room because I don’t have enough latinum to bribe my way in yet, but next thing I knew I was on a ship, and then we went back to the station, but --” Quark pauses and Odo suspects he’s leaving something out “--but you weren’t there, because it was _Terok Nor_  --" the tone Quark uses definitely sounds like he’s skirting the truth, but Odo can’t bring himself to care too much "-- but Smiley and, um, just Smiley was there, no one else, so it wasn’t all bad, and and I did think I was stuck there forever, and--”

 

Quark’s voice rises in pitch as the confession pours out, until suddenly he’s sobbing too hard to continue talking.  He wraps his arms around Odo, crying into his shoulder.  Odo tenses, face twisted in alarm, then awkwardly pats Quark on the back until his breathing slows a bit.  

 

He mimics clearing his throat.  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you, but Morn owns your bar now, and Rom gave away all your latinum.”

 

Quark pushes away from Odo, and tickled by the horror on Quark’s face, Odo starts snickering.  He has missed Quark’s dramatic reactions.  However, Quark just keeps staring at him, face contorted in pain.

 

“I’m sure you could ask Rom for a loan.  And Morn would probably let you have the bar back for half-priced drinks,” Odo says gently, trying to be nice.

 

Quark just scowls further though, as if this were a worse fate than being trapped in the Mirror Verse.  

 

Odo chuckles fondly and pulls him back into a tight hug.  He decides to take pity on Quark in his misery.  “Don’t worry, I think I’ll be sticking around for a while.  You’ll have plenty of opportunity to make your money back trying to smuggle illegal goods under my nose.”

 

"Like you'll ever let me get away with anything," Quark says petulantly, but clings tighter to Odo, and Odo clings back, as if each were afraid the other might disappear.  

 

“You’re alive now,” Odo says after a few long moments, almost inaudibly.  “And I’m here.”

 


End file.
